


Thunder

by mogwai_do



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 16:12:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mogwai_do/pseuds/mogwai_do
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waiting for the rain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thunder

**Author's Note:**

> Drabble for MacGeorge using ‘thunder’, ‘flicker’ and ‘patient’ or that was the theory anyway, one of those only seems to be implied.

Methos leaned forward as Duncan shifted onto his stomach, his eyes tracking the line of Duncan's bare back. It was quiet in the loft; the air was hushed and still, waiting. A loud crack, then another directly overhead and with an audible rush, the rain came, not in drops or bursts, but in near solid sheets. It hissed and hammered against glass and brick and metal; the thunder roared and near shook the city; Methos slid a little closer on the big bed and listened to Duncan's soft breathing, his own falling easily into sync.

The clouds parted slightly in the strong winds and the evening sunlight escaped from beneath the heavy black clouds and joined the Immortals in their shelter. It shone through the sheeting water on the windows and cast golden ripples of light across the polished wood of the floor, flickering over Duncan's skin like a gentle flame.

Methos smiled softly to himself and reached out. With the lightest of touches he pattered his fingertips over the smooth muscle of Duncan's back, drew them feather-light over the curves of his shoulders and ass, and tapped now and again a little harder in random spots as the mood took him. Duncan slept on, oblivious to the play of his lover’s fingertips and shadow raindrops on his skin. Methos’ smile deepened, warming his eyes in a way Duncan had never yet seen, and he slid a little further down the bed until his face was level with Duncan’s. Methos leaned forward the few inches needed to press his lips to Duncan’s temple and then lay back against the pillow, letting his eyes drift closed. Outside the rain lessened and cracks appeared in the darkness revealing glimpses of the bluest of evening skies. In another half hour people would begin to emerge from their homes and the storm would have vanished into the mountains leaving behind pavements washed clean and parks vibrant with new growth.

 

FIN


End file.
